


Monkeys

by tahanrien



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahanrien/pseuds/tahanrien
Summary: He made his mother a promise, and he would keep it.
Relationships: Ajay Ghale & Pagan Min
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Monkeys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crankyoldman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankyoldman/gifts).



> Dear crankyoldman, I wish you a great Yuletide!

With his fist curled, Ajay swung around widely. The honey badger jumped back, squeaking loudly, as it hit the ground. It made an angry sound and then transformed. In the first second, Ajay thought he was looking at a Rakshasa, with all the smoke and the glowing eyes.

But he was not in Shangri-La.

Ajay held up a finger gun and mimicked the shot at the Royal Guard in front of him. He vanished in smoke and colors.

Ajay whooped and continued on.

There was freedom in Reggie and Yogi’s herbs - Ajay had never hung out with their type back in the US, back in his youth, but he had seen them in the streets, and some of his former buddies, they had gotten their stuff this way. From guys like Reggie and Yogi, guys who played it fast and loose, and who did not mind the occasional cold body.

Ajay did not remember getting naked and the herbs dimmed the feeling of bushes and trees hitting against his skin as he charged through them. He knew he could run forever like this.

So, he did.

-

“Are you second-guessing yourself, brother?” Sabal clucked his tongue. “Do not doubt, Son of Mohan.”

-

For a moment, Ajay was not sure if the screams he heard were from eagles or humans. Right up the cliff and maybe even further in the mountain, something was happening, and the sound echoed over the lake where Ajay had been diving just a few moments ago. His clothing was still soaked, but that did not matter. Ajay dropped the mangled remains of the Demon Fish that had been unlucky enough to attack him in the water. He listened.

A round of shots was what told him what he was looking at. That far up, it was likely some remote mountain village or a Sherpa camp that was being attacked. Ajay raised his A52 and with his free hand, he reached for his grappling hook as he hurried towards the cliff.

He just needed to get past the road.

In the distance, Ajay could hear Pagan’s Wrath - by now he only needed to hear the rumbling in the distance, as if the ground itself was shaking. Ajay paused at the side of the road. He looked up to the mountain again, then down the road where Pagan’s Wrath was heading. He could still make it up and out of sight by the time the convoy got past, and the Royal Guards in the convoy would be none the wiser.

But Ajay knew that Pagan’s Wrath convoys were hard to come by. And he knew all too well about the reward, and did he not need to make the roads more secure? Surely eliminating the convoy would give hope to all those watching.

Decision made, Ajay sank low into the fauna, and turned back to the road. The sound of Pagan’s Wrath got closer and with a smile, Ajay pulled out his M79 and a syringe, just to be sure. This was nothing a few grenades would not be able to handle.

It was only later, much later, that by chance Ajay made it up the mountain. By then, the Sherpa camp up the mountain was empty, most of the bodies - men, women, children - piled up. It looked like a sacrifice, but Ajay knew it was just efficiency.

-

The night was cold up here, and Ajay set up camp in the mountains near the now-abandoned Sherpa camp. He lit the fire that they had used and huddled into his clothes. There was a tent, right next to him, but there were still two bodies lying in it - while they had been killed recently, but their stuff was still there, and Ajay had quickly looted the camp. Old cigarettes and books, stuff that he could trade later for some more ammunition.

Ajay heard their voices before he saw the Royal Guard. Maybe the fire had drawn them in, but then again, they never seemed that smart.

“Come up then,” one of them said, and there was a thump as if someone had fallen.

Ajay lay flat next to the tent, hidden by the sparse vegetation, and pulled out his rifle. The A52 would do nicely. For a moment he thought about using the bow, but from the ground, this was a better choice.

“Move, you traitor!”

Holding his breath and with his hand on the trigger, Ajay waited for the first Royal Guard to appear over the edge as they made their way up. Their armor had seen better days, but then so had Ajay’s clothing by now, so he had no way to judge. He waited until they were all up, one by one as they came over the edge and then for the next one…

The man was not wearing any armor, and from the look, it was clear that he was one of the civilians, probably from the small collection of houses that Ajay had ridden by on a quad bike this morning. They had watched him wearily, waving only when he nodded to them, but they had shared their food with him readily. 

The Royal Guard must have come by later, and maybe Ajay had even led them there. He could not remember them tailing him, but that was more because by now it was a regular problem, but not one that his M79 could not usually solve.

Either way, they had taken one of the villagers.

Ajay kept quiet.

“Show us the place,” the captain of this group said. He hit the man with the rifle’s butt and the man almost fell over before he spat out blood. “It is here, right, where you buried the weapons?”

At that, Ajay could not help but perk up. He had found a lot of these places, abandoned with barely even a note to another family member, and even when food and clean water were rare, a stash of weapons was sometimes easier to find.

And Ajay was running low on rifle ammunition.

“Show us!” The Royal Guard demanded again. He kicked the man in the stomach, where he was kneeling until he doubled over. The villager started babbling, some Nepalese, some Hindi, but he pulled himself up again, even if slowly.

“I will show you,” Ajay could understand, but even after four months inside this country, he understood the bare minimum - he knew when people asked him to kill something, and most of the time, that was all he needed to know.

When the man finally managed to stand up, Ajay already had the captain in his rifle’s visor. The shot from here would be okay, but if he waited for a moment longer, he would have an even better one. Two of the other Royal Guards were right behind the captain. If Ajay just timed it right, the kill would be impressive. Three in one shot. It had been a while when he was not using one of the heavier guns.

Ajay held his breath. The man had finally managed to stand up, and for a moment Ajay thought he would come over - he had already searched the camp, of course, but maybe there was a hidden location. And it seemed like there was. 

Ajay had back a grin. If there were some good stuff, he would not need to pause in the next village but could make his way on.

He pulled the rifle away from his face. The man had stood up, and the Royal guards did not think there was anyone in the grass - not that Ajay could fault them - and he was moving away from them. Ajay could shoot them now, and he raised the rifle again when something made him pause. If he just waited for another moment, he would get them all huddled up over wherever the weapon stash was. Easier to shoot then, and Ajay’s hand reached back for the grenade and found the Molotov cocktail instead.

This would do as well, he just needed to wait.

The man pushed at one of the boxes that Ajay had checked already, and it moved easily to the side. The Royal guard moved closer, and now Ajay just needed to wait until they let the man step aside from their group before he could go in.

Just a moment--

“Good,” the captain said and made a small motion with his hand, that Ajay almost missed.

“Can I go back to my family now--?” the man started to say.

The Royal Guard closest to the man raised his rifle, too quick for either Ajay or the man to react, and shot the man. He dropped instantly, and with a shout lodged halfway in his throat

Ajay did not even need to think about it - the Royal Guards were standing close together to peer into the weapon stash hole and Ajay put the rifle down for the moment and aimed his M79 instead.

The little sound it made when the grenade was released felt like music in his ears, as did the screams of the Royal Guard. Another moment for the dust to settle. Then, Ajay shot the remaining two with his rifle, clear head shots from what he could see. He confirmed it when he stood up. The villager was dead by then.

Ajay could not help but smile. Five in one go, that was not bad. He picked up what he needed from the small weapon stash, and made his way over to the fire again where he had been sitting not even fifteen minutes earlier. Not bad for a day.

Night had fallen now, and up here, it was quieter than down in the valleys. Somewhere, a bell was ringing, but that was nothing unusual, and far away, there was the sound of what might have been a honey badger. Ajay told himself to sleep with one hand on his rifle.

As he did every night - or at least tried to -, Ajay pulled out the urn with the ashes of his mother in it. It was heavy the same way it always was, and still so light, that it was hard to imagine that all that remained of his mother was in that one place. All of her memories, all her past, all her personality. Ajay stroked his thumb over the engraved name. He would fulfill the promise. He would find Lakshmana… and he would help Kyrat, no matter the cost.

Carefully, Ajay put the urn down and grabbed one of the covers from the tent closest to him. It smelled of Yak, and sweat, and blood, but Ajay had gotten used to all of these smells.

Ajay looked over to where the urn is sitting, right next to him, not even two feet away, and he could just reach out and take it, it would be that easy. But when he looked over, he saw the pile of Royal Guard right in the view of the urn. The villager, just a regular man, lying at the bottom of the pile. Right in the view of his mother.

A wave of hot and unwelcome shame pierced through his body.

Quickly, Ajay grabbed the urn and put it back into its pocket in his jacket.

He was not even sure why. He had killed them, had he not? Was that not what his mother had asked of him? To find Lakshmana?

He kept his hand inside his jacket, inside the pocket where he was storing the urn. Through the gloves, he could not feel the engraving in the stone, not like he wanted to. But he did not take them off. This was for her, he reminded himself. This was all for her.

Ajay fell asleep with the urn pressed close to his chest and one hand on the A52.

-

“We need this, Ajay,” Amita said, eyes wide and pupils blown. “I hope you know that.”

-

Lakshmana’s shrine was not bigger or smaller compared to all the other shrines that Ajay had seen in all these past months in Kyrat. Had it been something grand and opulent, a giant three-story house, full of light and pictures, Ajay would have seen Pagan’s obsession in it. Had it been small, just a nook in the corner of a cave, barely more than a picture and three ever-lit candles, Ajay would have thought it but a fleeting memory.

But shrines like these he had seen before.

At every place that a parent had lost a child.

The two urns sat next to each other and they looked, for lack of a better word, peaceful. His half-sister and his mother. The thought was still a bit strange, but Ajay knew he could live with this. He had come here, and he had fulfilled his promise and he… was done now, was he not? This was what his mother had wanted for him, was it not?

Pagan’s words rang in his mind. ‘This urn represents all that’s left of the old Ajay.’

Ajay turned around, back to the door. Through it, he could hear noises outside. A helicopter, maybe. Ajay reached for the door, but something made him pause. There was a bundle of pages hidden at the side of the door and by now Ajay was familiar with the handwriting to recognize his father’s journal.

In the candlelight, Ajay read the journal entry and closed his fist around the paper. He leaned against the door until his forehead pressed against the wood. The sound of the helicopter was more pronounced now, but Ajay did not even want to go outside anymore. He was tired, and he was not sure what he was going to find outside of the door.

But then, Ajay had not known what to find inside Kyrat when he had first crossed the border either.

He opened the door.

By then, the helicopter was already lifting off and Ajay could only watch as Pagan fixed him with his gaze. “All choices have consequences, Ajay!” he shouted, barely loud enough to be heard over the rotating blades. “I’ve given you Kyrat, but I’m keeping the helicopter.”

Pagan took off then and Ajay watched him go. He watched him go, and he watched himself standing in front of the one place he had been looking for all these months, on top of a mountain with the path up lined with cold bodies of those in his way. And maybe Ajay had murdered them, maybe Pagan was right, maybe he was a monkey, maybe he was a lunatic, maybe he had been using his mother’s ashes as an excuse. But how had Pagan put it? At least now they knew Ajay had a taste for doing what it takes?

That he did.

Almost as if he was watching as an outsider, Ajay reached back to the weapons strapped to his back. He watched himself raise the grenade launcher to his shoulder, and he watched himself aim, and shoot.

The fireball from the explosion of the helicopter warmed his face. 

As if a curtain had been lifted, Ajay could hear the world around the palace again. He could hear the shouts, he could hear the fighting still going on, all the violent chaos that Kyrat had been for him and maybe would always be. 

It took Ajay a moment to notice, but for the first time since his mother’s death, he smiled.


End file.
